


Family Discipline

by menagerie



Series: Annabelle [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Anal Spanking, Aunt/Niece Incest, Breeding, Creampie, Enemas, F/F, F/M, Figging, Impregnation, Incest, Mommy Kink, Mother/daughter incest, Parent/Child Incest, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Pussy Spanking, Spanking, Uncle/Niece Incest, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 10:15:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19316122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menagerie/pseuds/menagerie
Summary: 18-year-old Annabelle got caught smoking at school.





	Family Discipline

Mommy, her twin sister Darla, and their friend from school, Karen, were all sitting in a row on the sofa when I got home from school, and it didn’t take a genius to see that they were waiting for me.

For one thing, they were just sitting quietly; not drinking tea, not talking about books or soap operas or local gossip from the diner they all worked at, though Karen _and_ Darla were still wearing their uniforms (starched, coral-colored dresses with Peter Pan collars, sensible shoes, and stiff white aprons). No; they simply sat all in a row, eyes on the door, piercing me through as I unlocked the door.

And secondly, I had a pretty good idea of why they were all there.

“Good afternoon,” I greeted, trying to keep the nervousness out of my voice. “Mommy, don’t you have work this afternoon? I thought I was meant to prepare dinner…”

My efforts at easy, breezy nonchalance went to waist. Mommy’s olive-green eyes flashed emerald fire as she glared daggers my way. “Don’t you give me no ‘good afternoon’, Annabelle Marie Smith! Do you know what Andrew called and told me not one hour ago?”

I winced. Andrew Kelley, the principal of my high school, happened to be my mother’s older brother, and also our next door neighbor. The perils of a small town.

Apparently, Mommy’s question was not rhetorical. She and the others all stared, waiting for my answer. I decided to bite the bullet and say what I knew we were all thinking. “So maybe I was… Was smoking a cigarette with Sally Jensen behind the school.”

I could say that it was Sally’s cigarette. That I was just standing with her while she smoked to be social. That would have been a lie, and worse -- that would’ve gotten Sally busted something fierce. In a town like Hawkins, you don’t snitch on your friends, or even your enemies. You just don’t.

Mommy folded her arms tight and gave a sharp nod of her head. “That’s what he said, too. You _know_ what this means.”

Oh, I had a pretty good idea, alright. I glanced at Aunt Darla. She, like Mommy, was a pretty, tall, strong woman with coal-colored hair, though she kept hers long while Mommy had a sensible bob like mine. Both twins inherited green eyes, but I got my brown ones from a daddy long gone before the pregnancy test was even dry. Like the two of them, I had a spattering of freckles across my nose that sorta blended into our olive complexions.

Karen was the exact opposite; she was a short, stout redhead with eyes blue as the sea only a few miles south of our house. She called herself a “little red hen,” and was usually good natured to a fault. Not today, it seemed; her eyes were steely.

I tried to appeal to her first. I knew she’d been pretty wild in her youth. “Auntie,” I pleaded, though she was no blood kin. “I’m eighteen now. We’re allowed to buy cigarettes… I wasn’t doing anything illegal!”

“Ain’t the law that matters,” snapped Darla. “It’s your pretty lungs gone to ash. It’s cancer, tumors, nasty tar in your chest.”

“And it’s against our Word of Wisdom,” Karen pointed out, referring to the Mormon Doctrine printed by Joseph Smith so long ago. She quoted, “‘And again, tobacco is not for the body, neither for the belly, and is not good for man, but is an herb for bruises and all sick cattle, to be used with judgment and skill.’ Were you trying to heal a cow, Annie-girl?”

I hung my head. That was something I couldn’t argue with. I knew smoking was wrong, but it was just one little cigarette, and Sally is the prettiest, wealthiest, trendiest girl in our year. Her Daddy owns half the fishing vessels, and sold the other half. Anything caught in our harbors belongs to him. I guess I’d just wanted her to think I was cool.

“You know what has to be done,” Mommy said. “You broke the rules of our church, and you broke _my_ rules. I thought you were a good girl, Annabelle.”

This made me feel so low I could about have laid face-down on the rug at their feet and cried. “I try to be a good girl,” I said with my head still lowered. “I’m sorry, Mommy. Can’t you forgive me?”

I do try, honest. I do my best in school, and I practice my violin every night. I babysit the neighbor’s daughters when other teens are drinking and partying down at Ichor Rock, and I never rub my girlie parts without Mommy’s permission and supervision.

For a moment, Mommy’s face softens. I watch her force it to be hard again. She’s young for a Mommy-- only 35 -- but hard work has worn wrinkles into her skin and gray into her hair. She’s still so beautiful in my eyes. I love her so much I sometimes can’t stand it. She only wants what’s best for me.

“We’ll see,” she decides. “Go put your things into your room and strip. You know the rules.”

I did know the rules, and I knew arguing wouldn’t do me no good. And besides; I was eager to be punished. The sooner my punishment ended, the sooner I could be forgiven and loved again.  
  
“Yes, Mommy,” I said, and went to do just that.

My room looks like a little girl’s room-- soft pink walls and stuffed toys everywhere-- but that’s just how I like it. I like feeling cozy and safe and keeping everything just so. Setting my school bag down in the closet, I avoided my reflection as I removed my slacks and blouse, putting them in the dirty clothes hamper.  
  
My shoes went into the closet, and then my socks, panties, and bra followed suit. All punishments are performed on the bare, and I keep my girlie parts shaved smooth for Mommy’s regular inspections. I always, always want to be her little girl.

Naked now, I pad out of my room and back to the living room, where I wince in dismay when I see Karen standing, deliberately opening the blinds, and the windows. Looks like the whole neighborhood’s about to get an eyeful-- and an earful.

“Oh!” she exclaims when she sees me. “I guess it’s been a few years since I saw you get punished. Look at you-- your breasts are all filled out!”

I nodded shyly, holding my shoulders back so she could look her fill at my CC breasts hanging heavy, shaped like teardrops. Like the rest of me, they were freckly and olive. They were capped with large, dark nipples, still full due to the warm afternoon.

“Assume Position B,” Mommy told me, and I couldn’t help but feel a warm thrum of pride. I knew she wanted me to show them everything I had. That must mean she thinks I’m worth showing off.

Turning my back to the trio, I knelt on the floor, raised my hips high, rested my face on the rug, and reached behind myself to spread my bottom cheeks. This showed all three my dark bottom hole and girlie parts; my holes opening up so they could see inside me.

“What a pretty little clittie she has!” Karen squealed. “How sweet.” I felt a warm glow at the compliment.

“It is, rather,” Mommy agreed. Then, “Annabelle, come here. You’re to lay over  your aunt’s lap; your front on Karen, your legs over me. “

They must have discussed this beforehand. Figured out the arrangements of my punishment. Eager to be forgiven, I scrambled to my feet and came to do just that, finding it only a little awkward. They helped me as I crawled over Mommy’s lap, resting my hips over Darla’s legs, and finally my top half in Karen’s. I rested my chin on her ample thighs and felt her stroke my hair back with her stubby, pink-manicured fingers.  
  
“Right,” Mommy said. “Normally, we start with a little piece of ginger in her bottom, and another in her girlie parts. But she’s been so naughty and dirty that we’re going to use soap instead.”

Oh, no! Soap sticks sting something terrible as they dissolve inside your bottom. I tried not to tense as Mommy reached into the basket by her lap and fished around. I _did_ wince in surprise when she used a plastic spray bottle to mist my bottom with cool water, giving several squirts until all was damp.  
  
“Darla,” she said, and her twin reached over my back to take double handfuls of my bottom, pulling it so wide the hole strained and ached. She often helps Mommy punish and reward me.

Mommy misted directly onto my hole. Then, deciding that wasn’t enough, reached into the basket again and withdrew an enema bulb, which she stuck right inside me without another word and released the contents with a squeeze.

I squirmed. A bulb only holds a few ounces of fluid. It’s nothing like the big enema bags she hangs from the shower when she thinks I really must be cleaned out. But still, having a lot of fluid inside your bottom very suddenly makes your body think you have to go.

There wasn’t much time for that. As purposeful and unceremonious as she does everything else, Mommy withdrew a hand-carved stick of soap, sprayed it with the bottle to dampen it, and rubbed it between her palms until it lathered up slick.  
  
The stick was considerably thicker and longer than the nozzle of the enema. She had to wriggle and twist it quite a lot to push it all the way inside my bottom. I buried my face in Karen’s thighs to hide my wimpers as it immediately began to sting and irritate the tender tissues inside me. That was the point, after all; this wasn’t meant to feel good.

Once the stick was all the way inside me, Mommy added a large, stainless-steel plug into the mix. I groaned as she pushed that into my little bottom hole. It seemed to take forever until the tight ring of my sphincter swallowed around it.

“Oh,” I groaned, feeling a sweat break out on my forehead. The punishment hadn’t even truly begun, and already I was burning inside, my anus terribly sore and tired.

“I don’t do this every time,” Mommy said, for Karen’s benefit. “But as she’s been so exceptionally naughty, I decided to go the extra mile. This is a jalapeno pepper I’ve scored and braised. All the juice is right on the surface.”

Here, I did wince. Begging only earns a bigger punishment, a longer one, and I needed enough energy after this was over to do my homework. I am a very well trained young lady, so I kept my tears silent and spread my legs, arching my hips without being prompted. I hoped Mommy was smiling as she used two fingers of her left hand to pull open my girlie lips and run the dripping jalapeno around inside, wetting my tender inner lips.

She pulled back the hood of my clitoris to get the sensitive bud covered in burning juices, then pushed the jalapeno all the way inside my girl-hole.  
  
She used the stem to push and pull the pepper in and out of my body a few times, like she sometimes does with tampons or fingers or dildos, before finally pushing it in deep and leaving it.

Already I feel the heat, the burning taking effect. It hurts so terribly that my tears soak the lap of Karen’s uniform. She strokes my back consolingly.

“You know you deserve this,” she told me calmly. “You were such a naughty girl. We’re helping you be a good girl next time. When that hussy Sally Jensen tries to get you to do something naughty, you look at her and say, ‘No, Sally! I’ll be a good girl so my Mommy doesn’t have to take the day off work to hurt my bum-bum and pussy and pretty titties.’”

I nodded; sniffled. I’d say no such thing, of course; the things Mommy and I do are private. Secret. If anyone but Darla and Karen and Andrew knew what Mommy does to my little girl holes, they might try and take me away from her.

… Or perhaps they wouldn’t. Perhaps, now that I’m eighteen, it doesn’t have to be a secret anymore?

I’ll ask her tonight, when she gives me my bath, what she thinks about that.

Mommy allows us to sit in quiet, as I squirm and sweat, my bottom and pussy feeling like they’re boiling. I raise and lower my hips rapidly, like I do when I hump Mommy’s thigh, but I’m not humping anything right now. My body is just trying to relieve the ache.

“I’m going to start the spanking with only my hand,” Mommy says. She doesn’t always-- early onset arthritis means it’s easier for her to use the paddle or cane or strap or sandals or cable or carpet beater to punish my bottom. But I suppose, under the extraordinary circumstances, she wanted it to be personal.

And, honestly, I like it much better this way, too.

Mommy’s spanks fall brutally, breathlessly hard and fast. She gives my bottom a sound beating from the top curve of my buttocks all the way down to my thighs, making sure to pay special attention to the sit spots, which I know will ache for days. My skin feels hot enough to bake cookies on.

It continues for what must be hours, though surely it’s only a few minutes. I’m crying, gasping too hard to count each strike.

When mommy grows tired, she sits back, panting. “Raising a good girl is hard work!” she gasped.

As soon as the sting in my bottom faded to a bearable level, my pussy gave a huge throb as it remembered the jalapeno deep inside. I sobbed fresh tears.

“Ooh… Mommy?” I asked, trying to sound reasonable and mature, even through my tears. “Will you please consider removing the jalapeno from my princess parts? It’s taught me its lesson.”

Mommy hems and haws, hearing the desperation in my voice. I try and still my squirming as best I can while she thinks it over.  
  
“I suppose,” She decides. “But I’m going to rub Icy Hot on your clittie just to be sure you’ve learned it good.”

This almost makes me cry anew. As does the smell of the muscle cream when she uncaps the tub, pulls the hood of my clittie back, and makes good on the promise.  
  
She uses the creamy finger to reach deep inside me and hook around the jalapeno, drawing it out and discarding it in the wastepaper bin. Now my insides _and_ my sensitive bud burn with every throb of my heart. Mommy covers her fingers in goo and just about packs my pussy full of it, one shove at a time. I’m crying so hard I’m near inconsolable, and almost miss my next command.  
  
“Wheelchair position,” Mommy says, giving my hip a little push. “Over Darla’s lap. She’s going to use the spoon on you.”

I stand, embarrassed to see the mess I’ve left on Karen’s uniform-- tears and snot and drool, all-- and turn around, getting on my hands and knees.  
  
Darla and Mommy help me get my legs up on the couch, framing the outside of both of Darla’s legs. My hips are supported on her lap, but my upper body is on the floor, my weight braced on my elbows.  
  
“Oh, that’s clever!” Karen exclaims. “That way you can look at her pussy while you give her a beating. Her privates are so exposed... That's a nice view!"

“Usually her asshole, too, when we don’t plug her up,” Darla said, giving the base of my plug a sharp tap so that I feel it reverberate deep inside me. “Spanking her while she wears a plug gives her that little extra boost. It bruises her insides and makes her follow-up fuck all the more painful."

Sometimes her language becomes cruder as a punishment wears on and she grows more excited. I know hurting me turns her on. It makes me feel good to have her attention like this. My aunt has always been the cool, tough one; the one I want to impress.

I try to be a good model for Karen, arching my hips so she can look inside me. Sometimes Mommy uses a speculum to open my girlie parts wide and shines a flashlight inside so she can see and touch my cervix. I don’t know if it’s possible to see it without those tools, but I like to imagine it is. I like thinking they can see so deep in my body and know I belong to them to my very core.

I don’t hear Darla raise her beloved wooden spoon (it’s got a hole drilled in the middle to minimize air resistance), so I actually scream when she brings it down hard on my thigh, the loud smack echoing in the room.

She doesn’t wait for me to recover. Inhumanely hard blows rain cruelly down on my bottom and thighs and the tender inner thighs without pause for breath. My next scream is trapped in my throat. I can’t make a sound; this is pure, blinding agony.

Darla has a lot of anger and a lot of strength. She continues my punishment for so long it almost becomes meditative. I am beyond pain. I am in a new mental state. My mouth hangs open, and tears slick from my eyes to land on my lips. Through pain, there is clarity. I just know I’ll be bruised something fierce in a few hours.

Even the deep well of Darla’s rage has a bottom. Or perhaps she’s just physically spent. She drops her spoon and falls over my back, panting hard on my bare skin. Her hands rub my sides.  
  
She’s a good auntie, really. She gives wonderful presents and kisses me sweetly. When Mommy is too busy for me, sometimes she straps on a dildo and makes love to me so sweetly I see heaven. I don’t mind her finding catharsis in me. Not at all.  
  
I turn my head to kiss her hand, and she hums contentedly.

The blood has been rushing to my head from this downward slant of a position. Darla and Karen have to pull me up, and then Mommy grips my hips to help me stand.  
  
I wobble, but just manage to stay on my feet. Then I stand with my hands behind my back and await my orders.  
  
“You may go to the toilet,” says Mommy. “You may empty your enema and rinse your holes. Leave your plug in the sink. You have five minutes.”

When she sets a time limit, she means it. I head for the bathroom as fast as my wobbly, limping body can manage.  
  
My bottom and thighs are a dark crimson, and they throb with every heartbeat. It hurts too much to sit on the toilet, so I squat above it instead. I do as she says, flush the mess away, and use damp cloths to wipe the sweat (and Icy Hot) off of me. My hair is wet and sticky from snot and drool, so I quickly wind that into a bun. I wipe the tears from my face, blow my nose, and hurry back out clean and refreshed.

Mommy has a glass of ice water and some apple slices waiting for me when I leave the bathroom. I eat and drink gratefully -- she always takes good care of me -- and am almost feeling like my old self when she directs me to spread across their laps again-- this time, on my back, with my head in Mommy’s lap.  
  
It hurts terribly to rest my abused bottom on the rough fabric of Darla’s skirt, but I do as I’m told.  
  
Karen spreads my legs wide, then lifts a pillow for me to raise my hips on. Only then to I begin to suspect what the next stage of my punishment will be.

“Karen’s never spanked anybody’s princess parts,” Mommy says, sounding all too pleased. “This will be very educational.”

“I didn’t even know you _could_ spank somebody’s pussy,” Karen marvelled, pulling my lips open. She gave her thumb a lick and touched it to my clit, rubbing it slowly.  
  
“That’s right,” Mommy encouraged. “Get her aroused. It’s a much more effective punishment when it’s swollen and wet.”

“Oh!” I gasped as Karen massaged my pussy with her chubby little hands, even slipping two fingers inside me and pumping them. Karen had never fucked my holes before, but she did so now with ease; her pinkie in my bottom, two fingers in my pussy, and -- after she bent forward -- her tongue on my clit.

“Remember when we were teens?” Karen joked to my aunt and mother. “I used to bring the two of you off three times a day; a hand inside each of you. You couldn’t get enough! Such horny little sluts you were. This feels like old times!”

It didn’t take long until I was squirming for a different reason, panting and gasping and staring into Mommy’s eyes as she stroked my hair.

“Mommy…” I gasped. “Auntie Karen is going to make me come on her fingers!”

Mommy sighed. Shook her head. “I’m afraid she’s not,” she told me. “Karen, it’s time for the spanking.”

Oh… It was such a shame when those lovely fingers were taken away. Mommy covered my eyes with her hand. Darla pinched each lip of my pussy and pulled them open wide as could be, holding me down with an arm across my chest. Karen’s body pinning my leg to the couch prevented me from closing my thighs.

There was a whistle of air through the hole in the spoon, and Karen spanked me right on the pussy.

She didn’t spank as expertly as Mommy or as brutally as Darla, but her style had wicked little flicks and switches. It seemed like she always knew exactly where each strike would hurt the most.

She paddled my tender clit; my pussy hole. When Darla closed my pussy again, she spanked the lips as red-raw as my bottom.  
  
Darla added another pillow under my hips and pulled my cheeks open instead, and then Karen spanked the inside of my crack and directly onto my anus; my most secret hole.

I was screaming and wailing and sobbing; making noises I’d only ever heard dying animals make. This was a pain I had never known. This was a pain I wasn’t sure I could survive.

I couldn’t begin to guess how long this punishment lasted, or why it stopped. It took me too long to even realize it _had_ stopped. I was gasping, chest hitching, tears rolling, when Mommy took her hand away, regarded my face, and bent to kiss me. I barely responded as her lips coaxed mine; as her tongue delved deep into my mouth.

“We beat the devil out of you,” she declared. “You’ve been cleansed. You’re my good girl now.”

“T-t-thank you… Mommy…” I managed to gasp.

It felt like a red-hot poker was burning between my legs as they all three pushed me into a standing position. I waddled, duck-legged, over to the armchair, which Darla pushed me onto in a kneeling position. I heard a zip as she removed her dress, and the buckle and jingle of a harness as she pulled her strap-on the right way.  
  
Only Mommy is allowed to fuck my pussy. Other people are allowed my mouth and ass, but my pussy belongs solely to her, until someday I get married. Then it will belong to Mommy _and_ my husband.

But my anus was so swollen and painful from Karen’s spanking that I didn’t think it could take a fucking right then. I began to cry silently. “Please, Auntie, have mercy…”

“A good girl always takes a cock,” Darla said dismissively, giving my shoulder a push. “Well. The cocks of those that own her, anyway. She mustn't take just any cock, or she’s a used-up whore. What would your future husband think, if you complained that you were too tired or sore to serve him? We’re training you.”

She grabbed an aching handful of my bottom and pulled it open, then squirted a cold gobbet of lube right onto my hole. The bottle made an embarrassing toot noise as she squeezed it. She tossed the bottle aside, lined her big cock up, and pushed in with little fanfare.

 _Oh,_ how I squirmed and cried, attempting to alleviate the ache by rising up, sticking my bottom out, pushing my muscles open to take her. It almost didn’t matter. She didn’t wait for me to grow comfortable; she merely sawed her hips, grabbing onto my waist as she fucked me brutally into the armchair. Every thrust brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“That’s it,” she grunted, gasped. “Filthy little girl. Little slut. Take my cock, take it, take it…”

I wished she would touch my clittie; would rub it for me so I could come on her cock. But she didn’t. This was a punishment, after all.

Then I heard a key in the front lock and stiffened. Who could it be? Only four people had keys to my house: Myself, Mommy, Darla, and--  
  
“Andrew!” Karen exclaimed delightedly.

Darla didn’t slow her movements just because her brother now stood behind us, watching me take her cock. I wanted to ask what he was in time for -- he had never been much a part of my life; had never taken part in my punishments.  
  
“I haven’t come yet,” Darla complained. “You’ll get your turn, greedy; just wait.”

The vibrator against her own clit was rubbing, buzzing, driven with every thrust she pounded my aching bottom with. I could tell she was close by the way she breathed.  
  
A second later I heard Darla gasp. And then-- “Oh, your hands are magic, brother.”  
  
I risked a glance over my shoulder. Saw Andrew’s hairy knuckles on Darla’s breasts as he kneaded them, pinching her nipples. He was rolling his own hips into her naked bottom, though he wore the same khakis and polo he always wore to school.  
  
Darla came with a gasp, slumping and panting against my back. She moved a lock of my hair aside, patted my shoulder, and withdrew.  
  
“Thanks, Annie,” she said, pushing away from me and her brother. “You’re always a good lay.”

I wanted so badly to turn around fully, to look at my principal and figure out what he was doing here, but I was too well trained. Mommy hadn’t told me it was okay to dismount.

… A moment later, I felt a man’s rough hands on my sides.  
  
“You were a very bad girl today, Annabelle,” my uncle said, his voice low in disappointment. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson.”

“I-- I have, sir,” I breathed when his hands found my breasts, kneading them the way he had Darla’s. I’d never been touched that way by a man before, and was pretty sure I didn’t like it. “I’ll never smoke again. I promise!”

Karen released a hoot of laughter, standing and grabbing up her pocket book.  
  
“You guys are too much,” she declared. “What a hoot. Darla, we’re gonna be late for the night shift. Put your clothes back on and lets get going.”  
  
A minute later, the door closed behind them. I heard the rumble of Karen’s VW leaving our garage.

Only Mommy and Uncle remained, and neither were within my range of sight.  
  
“Well,” Mommy said. “You’re a very busy man. I’m sure you want to do your part and leave, just as you always do.”

“That’s not fair, Katherine,” Andrew complained. “I run a whole school of children.”  
  
“Yet you couldn’t be bothered to stand in for your niece.”  
  
“I’m here now!”  
  
They were truly fighting behind me, about my father, about their strained relationship. I squirmed, only to squeak in surprise when Andrew’s grip on me tightened. I heard a zip of his trousers.  
  
“Mommy!” I gasped, part in alarm, part in genuine fear. “I don’t want--”  
  
“Hush now,” Mommy interrupted. “I’m doing what’s best for you. You’re graduating high school in the spring, and that’s a period of time good girls often get a little wild. Your uncle has agreed to seed a baby inside you, so you can settle down and be a good mother right away, just as I did.”

 _Seed a…_ “Uncle Andrew is going to get me pregnant?!”

“That’s all he’s good for.”

Andrew huffed and complained, even as a second glob of lube landed on my hole-- my bottom hole. I didn’t know much, but I knew babies weren’t made in there!  
  
But soon something fatter and shorter than Darla’s dildo was pushing into my behind, spearing my bottom hole open. It was hot and throbbing like plastic never could. Like his sister, Andrew fucked without mercy, jabbing my anus over and over with his twitching prick.

I also wasn’t used to dangling testicles hitting my leg with every thrust. I didn’t like this. His scent was strong and bitter, and his hairy chest rubbed my back. I didn't like any of this! I only wanted women, women I loved, to touch, punish, fuck, and make love to me!  
  
“Remember to come in her pussy,” Mommy warned, from where she sat on the sofa watching. “But don’t stay in there. That’s _my_ hole.”

“I promised I would, didn’t I?”  
  
It was like I wasn’t even there. Like I was a piece of furniture they were talking about.

“Make sure she comes, too,” Mommy said, when Andrew’s thrusts grew irregular. “If she comes, the seed is more likely to take.”  
  
Immediately his hand dropped between my legs, a rough nail circling my clit. It didn’t feel good, either. It felt like something Andrew wasn’t accustomed to doing. If I hadn’t already been turned on all afternoon, it wouldn’t have started a fire in my belly at all.  
  
Andrew kneaded my breasts with one hand, rubbed my clit with the other, and, just as his gasps became grunts, he pulled out of my bottom and slammed his cock into my pussy instead, coating my walls with his cream.  
  
Mommy had wanted me to come, and I wanted to obey her every order. I reached between my legs, pushed my principal’s hand aside, and rubbed myself off with the palm of my hand until I felt myself throbbing around him, a shivery, shuddery, achy orgasm that almost hurt.  
  
Andrew carefully laid me down, lifting my legs up on the armchair so his seed stayed inside me, before pulling out.  
  
I felt strange, looking up at him upside-down. How had I never before noticed that his eyes were brown?  
  
“You can go now,” Mommy told him cooly. “You’ve done your job. If it didn’t take, I’ll let you know, and schedule a time for you to come back.”

He didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he looked quite sad. Not for the first time, I wondered why he and Mommy were always at such odds. He and Darla got along okay…

He didn’t argue. He walked out. Silence settled. Mommy released a sigh and laid back on the sofa, rubbing her eyes.

“I love you, Mommy,” I said from my upside-down position, Andrew’s seed deep inside my girlie parts. “Do you really think I should become a Mommy?”  
  
“That’s what I want for you. I want you to have a little girl to love and cherish, just as I love you.”

It was a long time before I dared ask my next question. Long enough for the sun to start setting. I watched the shadows stretch and lengthen on the wall opposite the still-open window.  
  
“Mommy?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Is Uncle Andrew my father?”

This time, the only answer was the steady blowing of the wind.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys; I made a blog for my erotica [here,](https://menagerie-scribblings.tumblr.com/) if you want to know how to make requests, etc.


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